


Heat

by bluestargirl6 (pressdbtwnpages)



Category: The OC
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-16
Updated: 2004-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressdbtwnpages/pseuds/bluestargirl6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>In Newport, Ryan's sure the tourists are coming out in droves.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat

Dawn Atwood's never liked heat. Not real 108 degree California summer heat. She never forgets to pay the electric bill in the summer.

Ryan has this latent memory, he dreamed it the other night but he's becoming more and more it's convinced it's true. In the memory-dream it's maybe three in the afternoon, the hottest part of the day, and he and Trey are standing in the living room with the lights off. Trey's got some stupid plan, Ryan doesn't remember what, only that at age seven he knew it was a dumb plan. Ryan tries to convince Trey not to do whatever he's planning, and Trey's having none of it. He's halfway out the door when Ryan warns, "Don't do it Trey, it's hot."

It was hot the night he and Trey stole the car. His stupid jacket only made it hotter.

It was hot the day Dawn kicked him out.

Dawn never liked heat.

It's hot now, back in Chino. September and still over 100 today, and Ryan's standing outside waiting for a bus.

Even in the middle of the ocean they have wind, but not in Chino. Here everything is stagnant, still. The heat descends like a down-turned bowl and seals this valley tight.

It's ninety in the shade, but at least there's respite from the blazing sun.

Ryan thinks he should be envious of his friends back in Newport, but he isn't. He feels contempt for all those weak, soft souls who rely so desperately on air conditioning they don't need.

The heat waves radiate of the asphalt, parked cars, even the rivets in Ryan's jeans are hot enough to burn him if he allows them to touch his skin. Everything smells like blacktop in the summer in the desert.

In Newport, Ryan's sure the tourists are coming out in droves. Buying Balboa bars and walking around in bikinis sampling the California summer.

This is a true California summer. When the sky stays a bluish-gray all day, because the air's too hot to prevent condensation. Where people don't come home for lunch, because they know if they do they'll never be able to get up and finish out the day. Where there are vendors waiting at every bus stop to sell you a cold drink or ice cream bar for fifty cents. Where the temperature is 80 when you wake up and is in the upper nineties even after the sun has set. Where everyone sighs a breath of relief when the temperature dips below ninety degrees and then grits their teeth and waits for the next wave of it.

Heat makes people do crazy things. Abandon their kids. Hit their girlfriends. Steal cars. Stay.

Sometimes Ryan wonders if the differences between Chino and Newport are more than superficial. If socio-economic and education levels have nothing to do with crime rates. If you took Newport and Chino's geographic locations and switched them would people in Newport start smacking each other around? Would the flying fists in Chino still?

And then Ryan wipes off his sweaty face with the back of his hand, takes a gulp of water, inhales a breath of asphalt air, and decides it's way too fucking hot to think.


End file.
